5 The Domino Heat
by pjstillnoon
Summary: The heat of the kitchen, the heat of passion, the heat of playing the game. An old friend calls Gillian for a favour and she drags a reluctant Cal along with her.
1. Chapter 1

**Teaser**

"Order in!"

A slight hush falls over the staff. It doesn't get much quieter in the actual room, what with the industrial extractor fans whirring overhead, the industrial dishwasher running through a cycle in the corner, four oven fans working at various sections around the space, the clank of pans against cast iron stove tops, the rush of hot oil cooking potato fries in two thirty litre deep-fryers, the crash of plates in the dishwasher pit and under that, the noise of a knife against a plastic composite chopping board. It was her staff that become suddenly alert and attentive, their ears all turn slightly towards her as she calls the docket down the line, even if they continue to move around placing food against heat.

"Three scallops, one bruschetta! To follow: three eye fillet and a risotto!"

"Yes chef!" Comes the returning cry from her commis down the far end of the kitchen in larder. Her two demi chefs on the fish and vegetable sections echo it. The chef de partie on the seafood section also responds to the call, this time answering, "oui chef."

The docket is slid onto the rack to await its turn and she spins back to her hot plate, turning over the eye fillets already on there and pushing them to the side to make way for three new ones. She sprinkles them with rock salt, New-York-cut black pepper, and drizzles over garlic oil before placing them on the hottest section of the hot plate so they will colour very quickly. The oil takes hold of the heat almost instantly and starts to spit and sizzle before she can even get her hand away from them. Tiny pricks of pain and hot oil dance over the skin of her left hand and she withdraws it quickly out of the onslaught.

Turning back to her workbench she finds a plate. On the plate is a perfectly shaped quenelle of mashed potato the side of a woman's hand. "What's this doing here?" She asks no one in particular. When she gets no response she holds the plate up. "What's this doing here?" She asks, raising her voice.

Three stunned faces look back at her; the chef de partie ignores her. "I didn't say we were going away," she tells her three junior chefs. The commis on larder looks away first, it has nothing to do with him. Neither of the demi's give anything away but it is clear that only one of them is actually on the vegetable section and is therefore responsible. She tips the plate into the bin so the potato slides off. "Don't go until I say we are going," she directs firmly and takes the dirty plate to the kitchen hand and leaves it on their bench.

Back at her section the first set of eye fillets go into the oven. The heat that wafts out of the open door makes her eyes water. The second set of eye fillets get turned over so the other side can seal. The doors to the restaurant bang open and a waitress comes in, her hands laden with plates. She dumps them on the kitchen hand's bench and starts to sort them by size. The cutlery goes in a fish bin to soak in soapy water. "Table thirteen away," she calls over her shoulder.

"Away on two pasta, one mussels," she calls down the line, getting a response from all her chefs as they set about cooking those meals. The kitchen is hot and everyone is red cheeked. For a moment she stops and grips the bench.

To the side, she is aware of her commis asking the kitchen hand to slice the pastrami for the function lunch tomorrow. A few minutes later the whir of the meat slicer starts up. A 40cm radial blade spinning faster than the eye can see. There are safety signs attached to the wall next to the machine, indicating it should only be used with the safety guard in place, or it could cause a grievous injury.

She turns to watch one of the demi chefs carry a 30 litre pot of boiling water over to the sink. It's obviously very heavy and he takes careful steps, keeping the pot close to his body. He has to manoeuvre around several obstacles; ones he can't see because of the large pot in his hands. He bumps into a rubbish bin and gingerly moves around it, the boiling water sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the pot.

The kitchen hand sprays chemical cleaner onto a deeply charcoaled pot and immediately starts coughing. He chokes and splutters and turns red in the face, squirming where he stands, trying to get away from the burning sensation.

The demi chef with the pot reaches the sink and awkwardly lifts it to drain off ten kilograms of pasta. She watches the hot water gush into the sink, engulfing the young chef in a great cloud of hot steam.

Working next to her, the other demi chef drops something into the fryer, causing a splash of a hundred and eighty degree Celsius oil to coat the younger chef's hand. There's a cuss, and a furious wiping of the back of a hand against a hip. Then the demi goes to reach for whatever he dropped in there. The words to stop him are right on the tip of her tongue. She lunges for him, desperately hoping she'll be able to reach his arm in time to pull him back. At the last minute, he stops himself. He looks over at her. "That was close."

Clearly unsettled she responds, "No shit."

They go away on that table, placing food up under the heat lamps simultaneously and she presses the buzzer to alert the waiting staff. Within minutes they're there to retrieve it. "Chef!" A sudden frantic voice called across the kitchen.

"Yes?" She calls back, focussing on the eye fillets.

"Chef you need to come and see this."

"I'm in the middle of service."

"Chef it's important."

"More important than service?"

"There's a body in the freezer!"

Lightman Group. Day.

"Good morning," Gillian greets as she crosses Cal's office.

He looks up from his desk where he is furiously typing out a message on his phone. He gives a grunt of acknowledgement. Gillian comes to stop in front of his desk and looks a little perturbed, especially when he goes on ignoring her. She waits but he still doesn't look up and hurt falls across her features. She opens her mouth to say something but hesitates and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, so her hips juts out. "Is that important?"

"Yes," Cal answers abruptly but a moment later his fingers still and he puts the phone down. He looks up at her and it is clear he slept badly the night before.

"Can we talk?" Gillian perches herself on one of the seats on her side of the desk. She leans forward, toward him.

"What about luv?" Cal leans back in his chair.

Gillian looks a little perturbed. She studies him so blatantly but he doesn't seem uncomfortable under her scrutiny in the slightest. "About," she starts softly. "What happened last night."

"Nothing to discuss luv," Cal tells her getting up suddenly. His chair kicks back to clatter loudly into the cabinet behind where he sits. He tucks his phone into his jeans pocket and gives her an overtly fake enthusiastic expression. He starts to walk away and ignores her again as she calls out to stop him.

"Cal please!" She turns to watch his back disappear through the doorway. She turns around in her seat dejectedly and hangs her head.

**Opening Credits**


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: you guys are slack! Why did you not tell me I didn't post act one? And why do I confuse myself so much over these stories!_

**Act One**

There is footage of a crowd displayed on the large screen. "See this guy here," Loker pushes in on a specific section to a man in a baseball cap. It's not possible to see his face and Cal squints up at the screen.

"Is that the best view you've got?"

"Yeah," Loker answers. "But if you wait just a minute," he skips the footage forward. "He looks up." He freezes the frame quickly. "And if we push in a little," which he does. "You can see a very clear anger expression."

"This the best shot you've got of him?"

"Unfortunately yes," Loker concedes. "But this is also the best evidence."

"You're gonna have a hard time convincing DCPD of that."

"Well," Loker muses. "I'm working on it."

Cal gets up. "Keep working on it," he suggests as he heads for the door. He strides down the corridor. Gillian appears from the side and marches along with him. Cal looks over at her curious and notes her determined expression.

"I am determined," she answers him, keeping up, even take several quick steps to keep her pace alongside his. "You are not going to avoid me for the rest of the evening."

"I'm not avoiding you," Cal is indignant as he powers into his office.

Gillian closes the door and follows him across to his desk. When he sees her approaching he moves into his study. "No you don't!" Gillian tells him annoyed. She jogs slightly to catch him. He's reached the outer door to the study and she pulls on his arm to prevent him from leaving. "I know I hurt you but please don't ignore me!"

"I'm not hurt," Cal lies. "Just busy."

"Bull shit," Gillian calls him on it. "Cal. Bull shit. I know you. Don't forget that. I know you when you're hurt and you're hurt and I'm sorry," she gives him a sad but sincere expression, her tone shifting softly rapidly. "I'm sorry ok?" She looks grieved and her voice waivers but she holds his eye.

Cal gives a little wince and stares into her face deeply, then hangs his head slightly. "Look you need time and I get that. Maybe I need some time too." He pauses. "I got invested very quickly. It's not healthy..."

"Cal," Gillian tries to interrupt him.

Cal holds up a hand. "I'm just trying to figure this out."

"So am I," Gillian implores. "That doesn't mean I know what I'm doing."

Cal opens his mouth to say something else but stops and gives a little sigh. "This is a tough one huh?"

"Yes," Gillian says with a slight hint of hope. "It is."

There's a moment of silence.

"Have dinner with me tonight. I got a call from a friend. He's running a restaurant and invited me to try out his new menu."

Cal raises his eyebrows.

"He's an old friend," Gillian clarifies.

Cal looks hesitant.

"Please?"

_The Hudson Hotel. Evening._

"You could have mentioned it was at the chef's table," Cal murmurs to Gillian as their coats are taken and they're shown to a set table to the side of the grill section, where there is spare floor space, out of the road of foot traffic. It is set for silver service, white linens and an array of assorted sized cutlery. A tall dark haired man approaches in an impeccable white chef's jacket, his name and the name of the establishment embroidered over his left breast; _Cameron Harvey_. His trousers are black and he wears work boots with steel caps. He immediately walks towards Gillian with a familial air and an old smile. He places his hands on her bare shoulders to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Gillian is wearing a black dress. And she looks stunning in it. It scoops around the edges of her shoulders, not low enough to show off the scar in the middle of her back, but enough to reveal, or at least hint at toned muscles and enticement. The front dips low as well, showing off the curve of her cleavage and the straps are so tight they look like they're painted on. But she doesn't move with any discomfort, like she had to squeeze herself into it at all. Cameron, after he steps back from kissing her, gives her the once over. "Wow!" He gushes. "You look amazing. Life has been kind to you."

Gillian smiles back, pleased, but also slightly embarrassed. Her hand subconsciously drifts towards Cal. "You look good too Cameron," she tells him and in the next breath: "This is my business partner Cal Lightman."

"Cal, nice to meet you," Cameron offers him his hand and they shake firmly. Cal gives him a nod but doesn't say anything. He looks around the noisy kitchen, eyeing up the staff members. One of the women watches him carefully as she blindly slices an onion. He stares back until she turns away to dump the onions into a pan. "Please come and have a seat," he guides Gillian with a hand on her shoulder, one that has not left her skin since it landed there. "I have to take care of service but I shall be waiting on you personally this evening. So sit and relax and ignore any yelling going on over here," he flashes her a brilliant grin as she turns to take her seat. He holds her chair for her. "Megan is bringing a bottle of wine. One of my favourites," his hand, now freed from a Velcro attachment to Gillian, gestures to his heart.

"Thank you," Gillian gives him a warm smile as he backs away and returns to his work station. Gillian watches his retreating back for a moment.

"What was that about?" Cal leans forward.

"What?" Gillian mimics his action.

Cal inclines his head. "Mr Harvey," he speaks in a low voice. "There's something going on with him."

Gillian looks a little caught out.

"Oh?" Cal raises his eyebrows. "I should have known there would be strings."

"Hey," Gillian exaggerates hurt. "I have to have an ulterior motive to want to spend an evening with you?"

"It seems," Cal starts and stops as Megan approaches. She pours red wine into each of their glasses expertly and leaves the bottle on the table, telling them to enjoy their meals. She gives Cal a sideways smile as she leaves and he turns his head to watch her go. When he turns back to Gillian she's frowning slightly.

Before either of them can say anything Cameron calls for the attention of his kitchen staff. He explains there is a booking for ten coming in that evening at seven pm and two bookings of six, at eight o'clock. "And then of course there is the TDH, which I will be taking care of." He indicates the table where Cal and Gillian sit. He introduces them and then quickly points out his staff members. Michael is down the back on the cold section. Ethan and Boyd are in the middle working the vegetable and fish sections. The chef de partie is Heather. She gives an impassive expression.

The speech over, the chefs go back to work and Gillian reaches for her glass of wine. She takes a sip. "Mmm," she notes. "It's good."

Cal looks as though he's about to speak when they're interrupted by Cameron. He places two small appetiser plates down in front of them. There are four canapés and he quickly explains what each one is before leaving them to try. Gillian seems excited about her food. Cal is starting to look annoyed.

_Head chef's office. Hudson Hotel. Night._

"Dinner was amazing Cameron," Gillian enthuses as they are lead into his office and take seats. It's cluttered with cook books, a desk with a computer, paperwork, folders, a filing cabinet, a box of shoes, a spare uniform, knives, mandolins, woks still wrapped in plastic, boxes of paper towels and assorted items of civilian clothing.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he takes his seat last. He looks tired now, his uniform not quite as crisp as before. He runs his hand through his hair. "I have to admit. I have an ulterior motive in asking you to dinner tonight."

"Oh?" Gillian asks politely while Cal slouches further in his chair, acting as though he his thoroughly bored.

"I'm in a little bit of trouble and I need your help."

"What kind of trouble?" Gillian asks next, playing her part perfectly.

"One of my chefs died. Here. In the kitchen." He pauses. "Well not in the kitchen. He was locked in the freezer."

"How'd that happen?" Cal cuts in. "Aren't there fail safes on those doors?"

"There are," Cameron answers him. "But at the end of the night we padlock the doors so nothing can be stolen."

"That makes them tricky to get out of," Cal responds.

"Whoever locks the doors at night checks there's no one in there first. Or they're supposed to," Cameron looks dejected, stunned, upset.

"Are the police investigating?" Gillian pipes up.

"Yeah and they're not sure they can rule it as a homicide or an accidental death. Either way they're taking a long look at me right now and I could really do without that kind of attention."

"So what do you want us to do about it?" Cal asks rudely.

"Well I was thinking if I invited you down here you might be able to see something and... maybe..." he gives a shrug. "Be able to tell the police that none of my staff are involved."

"We're not miracle workers," Cal continues in the same tone of voice. "An investigation would involve time and interviews."

"Whatever it takes," Cameron says firmly.

"You might not like what comes out," Cal points out.

"I just want to get to the bottom of it," Cameron answers him but he is far less confident than he was a moment ago.

"We can talk to your chefs," Gillian inserts herself back into the conversation. "Ask a few questions. See what comes up."

Cameron looks relieved. "I would really appreciate that."

_Lightman's car. Night._

They drive in silence for a moment.

"You played me," Cal talks to the windshield.

"Yes," Gillian admits. "For the sake of a friend. You do it to me all the time," she adds as if she needs to somehow shift the blame on to him as well.

"So that's how it's going to be? You're going to give me a taste of my own medicine every chance you get?"

"No," Gillian answers carefully. Then she seems to get annoyed. "Does everything with you have to be a battle of wills? Does it have to be a competition? Do you always have to get so jealous?"


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: you guys are slack! Why did you not tell me I didn't post act one? And why do I confuse myself so much over these stories!_

**Act Two**

"This is Julie Barrett, my sous chef," Cameron makes the introduction. "She's going to give you a quick tour and then you can talk."

Gillian gives him a smile in thanks and turns to the other woman. She's probably in her late twenties or early thirties. She has medium brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail and brown eyes. She gives Gillian a welcoming smile and shakes her hand. "Let's head this way to the chillers," she suggests turning to walk rapidly away. She wears black trousers too and Gillian notes with a glance that the junior chefs are all in checks; it's clearly a rank thing.

Gillian has to quicken her pace to keep up, her heels rapping out a quick cadence on the hard industrial floor. She's taken across a short corridor to where there are three large doors. Julie shows her the one in the middle, a prep chiller. She goes inside, holding aside the flaps so they don't knock into Gillian. It's cold within the chiller walls. The space is lined with plastic shelving and containers are stacked up holding, what Gillian can only presume is food. There are twenty litre buckets on the floor with peeled vegetables in them; carrots and potatoes in water, onions, red and white on their own.

Julie explains briefly about the temperature inside. Gillian's flesh comes out in goose bumps and she shivers. "Let's get out of here," Julie tells her with a wan smile. She swings the door closed and shows Gillian how the fail safe lock pops open again so they can get out without too much trouble. She pushes the door aside and holds the flaps apart again for Gillian and then takes her next door to the industrial freezer. "Careful of the floor, it can get icy," she warns as she pulls the door. It opens with a slight hiss of the released air tight seal and a frigid rush of frozen air sweeps over Gillian's feet and then creeps up her legs. Julie reaches up and turns the fans off. They go in.

It's freezing cold and eerily quiet inside the walk in freezer. There is more shelving in here too though the space is much, much smaller than the chiller next door. It's an odd shape to accommodate whatever is built behind it and so there is a small finger leading away from the main space. There is just enough space between the shelves for a man to stand. Cakes are stacked up in their boxes, frozen muffin mix, pastries are in the annex. The main section holds boxes upon boxes of fries and potato wedges; samosas and dim sim. Various seafood: oysters, fish, crab meat, squid. Meats: whole leg roasts, pork, ribs. There must have been thousands of dollars worth of frozen produce in there and all of it had been witness to the death of a man. There were sections of frost piling up on the floor and very obvious patches where things had been stored on the ground. The shelves started intermittent creaks as they came down in temperature half a degree at a time.

"It gets down to around negative twenty degrees Celsius in here when the fans are on," Julie explains, stopping next to a shelf not far from the door. Gillian, already cold from the other chiller, shivers again. "That's negative four Fahrenheit," Julie adds. She doesn't cross her arms over her body like Gillian does.

"And does the door open the same way from the inside like the chiller?" Gillian asks sombrely.

"Sure does," Julie lets the door swing shut and Gillian almost panics. Julie pops the door open easily again. They step out and she switches the fans back on. She shows Gillian where the padlock loops through and then goes inside and bangs on the door again so Gillian can quite clearly hear her distress. There is no way someone could walk by and not hear a disturbance. She takes Gillian through to the restaurant and they take a seat on comfortable couches.

"How long have you worked with Cameron for?" Gillian asks cupping her coffee. She finds a snowflake in the fold of her red dress and prods it gently with her finger until it melts away under her body heat.

"A few years now. He brought me over from the _Belvedere _to be his sous chef here," she smiles genuinely, a note of embarrassed pride in her body language.

"He must have a lot of faith in you," Gillian notes.

"It's a mutual feeling," Julie notes. "I support him because I believe in him as a head chef. His food is amazing and he's a good guy." There's a very slight pause and then she almost awkwardly adds, "He's good to his staff."

_Lightman Group. Cal's office. Day. Continued._

"There's an absolutely astounding list of possible hazards in that kitchen," Gillian speaks from the chairs opposite Cal's desk. He's slouched down in his, leaning back, his eyes hooded as if he isn't listening, but his gaze never leaves her face as she speaks animatedly. "The freezer is four below, there are thirty litre deep fryers, the oven is so big you could fit a grown man inside it."

"What's with Cameron then?"

"The meat slicer is so sharp it can cut through bone. Just last year a kitchen hand took the end of his thumb off. There's only so much you can do as a head chef. Put up hazard signs, train the staff. But sometimes accidents will happen."

"How do you know him again?"

Gillian stops and blinks. "We went to college together."

"Seems you move in different circles."

"Cameron was in several of my English classes. After he graduated he went to work in a kitchen and hasn't looked back." She pauses slightly. "As I was saying..."

"You kept in touch then?" His tone is light but slightly accusing.

"Yes," Gillian hesitates. "Intermittently," she admits and then seems to shrug off the comments. "Cameron has the correct procedures in place, the police investigation cleared that."

"Still looks highly suspicious," Cal notes. "It's an accident that shouldn't have happened."

"Yes and that is why Cameron has asked us to look into it."

Cal watches her impassively for a moment. He's clearly resisting. "Where do you wanna start then?"

"With interviewing the staff. Cameron said he would make sure they were available to us so I've asked Ria and Loker to go down and film the basic interviews, see if anything pops."

Cal gives a slight nod. "So what are you talking to me for?"

His tone just about bitch slaps her across the cheek. Gillian looks affronted, stunned even. She sits back in her chair slightly. She looks confused, like she has no idea where to even start answering that question.

Cal gestures sharply with his hand. "You don't need me to help."

"I," Gillian starts. "I thought we talked about our cases," she offers in a meek voice.

"But you have it under control?"

"Yes," she answers and it almost sounds like a question.

He gives her a pointed expression. Get out. That's what it says. Leave me in peace. Gillian gets up. She looks as though she wants to say something else. But she doesn't. She hesitates as she starts to walk away. "I have to be somewhere," she offers lamely. And then she gains her confidence back and strides purposefully from his desk, letting his door slam shut on her way out.

_Street. Afternoon. Continued._

Gillian pulls into a familiar park on the side of a quiet street and steps out of her car, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she remotely locks it and the lights flash to indicate the alarm has been set. She crosses the road and climbs up stairs to a specific building and rings the bell for the correct apartment. A tall dark haired man answers in a tidy dark suit and he is immediately concerned when he sees her face. "Hi," he greets and opens his hand to usher her inside. "Is everything ok?"

"I'm having a bad day," she tells him as she brushes by his chest.

"Come on in," he says calmly and closes the door.

_Street. Afternoon. Continued._

Cal drives by the apartment building, checking her vehicle is there and parks his car around the corner. He walks back briskly on foot, hurrying. He bounds up the stairs two at a time. To the left is a directory of who is in the building. Cal scans down the list. There are six occupants. Four are listed by a first initial and then a surname. One is listed by just a first name. The other is labelled as Doctor Lucas Green, Psy.D . Cal straightens up. He stands for a moment. Then he slowly turns and scuffs down the stairs again, jamming his hands into his jeans pockets. He crosses the street thoughtfully and turns to look up at the windows of the building. He stops to watch for a moment, then continues down the block again, his head hung slightly.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: you guys are slack! Why did you not tell me I didn't post act one? And why do I confuse myself so much over these stories! Go back and read it!  
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**Act Three**

"What have you got on the Harvey employees?" Cal requests as he comes into the lab. Torres and Loker are already going over the footage and one of the interviews of one of the demi chefs is currently playing on the big screen. Ria shoots Eli an unsure expression. "Not all at once please," Cal instructs as he pulls out a chair and takes a seat in the centre of the room, scooting forward so he is near a computer consol even though he makes no move to reach for the keyboard.

"Oh uh well," Ria speaks up. "This is Boyd Henderson, one of the demi chefs."

"What's his deal?" Cal asks as he leans back in his chair.

"Been there two months. Worked as a chef for two years."

"Anything interesting?"

"I thought you weren't working this case," Loker speaks up from his computer consol.

"What? I'm not allowed to keep tabs on you anymore?" Cal shoots back at him.

"Have you seen Doctor Foster?" Ria asks politely. "We should really go over this with her too."

"She's out," Cal answers abruptly.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" Ria asks hesitantly. She looks again at Loker, like she needs his reassurance, or his support.

"I assume when she finishes having lunch," Cal retorts. He gestures to the screen. "Any signs of violence? Guilt? The usual markers?"

"No," Loker answers. "He seems pretty clean."

"But this one," Ria pulls up a different interview. "This one is interesting." She types on her keyboard and the footage of the blonde haired Boyd is replace with footage of the chef de partie. She sits quite still while the sound of Ria's voice comes through the speakers. Her first questions are about how long Heather has been working there and other inane queries to get a baseline. On the recording Ria then asks Heather if she enjoys working at _The_ _Hudson Hotel_.

"Yeah sure," Heather responds.

Ria freezes the screen. "You saw it right?"

"Of course I bloody saw it," Cal responds sharply, while Loker, across the room, almost hiding behind his computer monitor, shakes his head 'no' at Ria.

_Office of Dr. Lucas Green. Continued._

"He's just so," Gillian starts and glances up at the ceiling clearly frustrated. Tears spring to her eyes.

"You care about him a lot?" The doctor notes gently.

"Yes," Gillian admits.

"What about him frustrates you?"

Gillian stops to think. "He won't let me in."

"Do you let him in?"

"Yes sometimes. But then I can feel him keeping this distance between us and it makes me want to keep my guard up too."

"You were seeing him for a while," Doctor Green changes tact slightly.

"Yes," Gillian sighs.

"You don't seem happy about that."

"I was. But it feels like it was slowly spiralling out of control. I felt like I was slowly getting lost."

"In him?"

"In everything."

"Try to be more specific with me."

Gillian thinks for a moment. She's poised on the edge of the couch as if she isn't quite comfortable being there. The room is decorated in soft tones and comfy furniture. Doctor Green sits across from her in a leather chair, one leg crossed over the other knee to make a little platform to rest his notes on. His trouser leg has pulled up and she can see he is wearing dark blue socks with his black shoes. Everything in the room is so proper.

"I'm tired of playing games all the time. I'm tired of one little aspect determining such a bigger response on the other end. I want things to be less complicated. I want Cal to react on his feelings by instinct instead of calculating them in every moment. I feel like I'm playing a game with him all the time and if I just make one wrong move then it will alter the course of the rest of everything. I feel like my life is lined up like a game of dominos and I'm just waiting for something to knock them over and everything to fall down around me."

"Are we still talking about Cal or the lack of control you feel over your own life since you were attacked?"

Gillian looks down at her hands.

_Lightman Group. Cal's office. Continued._

Gillian pushes on Cal's office door. She looks over at his desk but doesn't find him there. He's on his couch, the brown leather one and is watching her look for him. "Hey," she gives him a slight smile in greeting.

"Enjoy your lunch did you?" Cal asks but for once his tone is not accusing.

"Yes," Gillian replies carefully. She approaches where he is sitting and he immediately moves his legs to hang over the back of the couch. She sits next to him, or more like next to his head. He looks up at her, somewhat expectantly. "Ria filled me in on the work she did this afternoon with Eli."

Cal nods and it's comical with the angle of his head. Gillian gives him a tentative smile. "Are you comfortable like that?"

"I have a confession."

"Ok," she raises surprised eyebrows.

"I followed you this afternoon."

It takes Gillian a second to realise what the hell he is on about and when she clicks it looks as though she doesn't know whether she should be annoyed with him or just hurt. She barely contains her anger as she gets to her feet abruptly. "I can't believe!"

"No wait, let me explain," Cal twists and turns until he does a backwards roll off the couch and lands in a heap on the floor. He springs to his feet and crosses to the doorway where Gillian has exited. "Gill wait! Let me explain! I can explain."

Gillian powers into her office and tries to close the door but Cal just pushes it open and lets himself in.

_Lightman Group. Corridor. Continued._

"I don't think I've ever seen her so pissed off."

"Do you think they're sleeping together?"

"Maybe," Ria muses. "They were on a date last week."

"Really?" Loker turns to her and raises his eyebrows.

"Pretty sure," Ria answers.

Loker puts his arm around her shoulder. "Should we sneak out early? It looks like they're going to be going at it for a while."

Ria looks up at him. "I like the way you think Eli Loker."

Loker gives her a smile. "Why thank you." And he turns and guides her down the corridor to the front entrance.

Gillian's office. Evening. Continued.

"I'm really not in the mood for this right now," Gillian warns, her hand forming into a stop gesture as she stands not too far from him, just to the side of her desk.

"What you mean is, you're not in the mood for me," Cal retorts hovering near her office door, hands jammed in his pockets.

"How many times do I have to tell you, that this is about me and not you?" She tells him exasperatedly.

"See cos I think it _is_ about me but you're just too gutless to tell me."

"It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me!" Her eyes flash with emotion barely checked. "You have to stop being so jealous all the time. Wherever I was this afternoon is none of your business."

"How can I not be jealous when you tell me you don't want me and then move off with some tall dark haired bloke!"

Gillian's eyes narrow dangerously. "Are you _spying_ on me too?"

"Agent Russo," Cal throws at her. "Cameron Harvey. Who else is there!"

Gillian looks abashed. It's clear neither of them are going to acknowledge the man she saw that afternoon. Then she gathers herself. "This isn't even about you Cal or any other man in my life. It's about me. It's about my ability to deal with the doubts I keep experiencing. I'm questioning my ability to be with you without second guessing everything that having someone stab you does to you. I'm insecure right now and that is no way to start a relationship."

Cal looks stunned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Act Four**

"How long have you been sleeping with the boss then?" Cal asks abruptly. He's in one of the interview rooms. Gillian sits next to him and it looks as though she wants to object and glance over at him at the same time but doesn't quite bring herself to do either of those things. She sits slightly angled away from Cal, just so slightly, so that her body language is almost undetectable. But Cal notices it so obviously because he keeps glancing periodically over at her.

Julie Barret looks embarrassedly down at her hands. "How did you find out?"

"We find out secrets here," Cal answers her. "We wheedle and niggle until we finally get a truthful answer."

Gillian suppresses a sigh. Today she is wearing grey. "The fact that you're sleeping with Cameron looks bad. It gives you motive for covering up the circumstances of the death of one of your chefs," Gillian points out.

Julie's eyes go wide. "I would never! I might be sleeping with Cameron sometimes but that would never be an excuse for me to cover up someone's death! I value life and my morality too much for that."

"We do the strangest things for love," Cal speaks up. "We do things that are completely out of character."

Again, Gillian almost looks over at him but doesn't follow through on the gesture. She looks even more uncomfortable.

"I am not in love with Cameron," Julie insists.

"Now that's the truth. But you're hiding something and I smell a rat. And we all know rats in the kitchen are not a good thing."

Julie looks uncomfortable and it gives Gillian the chance to relax, now that the heat of Cal's words are not directed at her.

"What's going on in the kitchen?" Gillian prompts gently.

Julie fidgets with her hand and Gillian can see an angry red mark from what must be a new burn. She's in civilian clothes today, jeans and a grey long sleeved t-shirt. She pulls her sleeves down over her hands. "We've had some problems in the kitchen recently."

"When did they start?" Gillian asks.

"A few months ago. Prep started disappearing. Equipment started breaking down. We started having accidents."

"And you clearly believe someone in particular is responsible," Cal adds. "Cos your eye lids flutter away like little butterflies when you talk about these 'accidents'."

"It looks like sabotage to me, but Cameron doesn't want to believe that."

"A name," Cal presses.

"He wouldn't listen to me when I brought it up."

"Tell us who you think is responsible," Gillian prods gently.

"Heather."

_Interview room exterior. Continued._

Cal powers out of the room. "Get Heather Bishop in here straight away," he instructs. He finds Wallowski standing behind the consuls where his staff are working. "All right?" he greets, surprised to see her there but nowhere near perturbed.

"Oh for god's sake," Gillian mutters from behind him as she exits the interview room next and immediately heads for the door. Wallowski looks back at her surprised.

Cal takes a few steps to follow after Gillian but turns back to the detective. "Torres will fill you in." He pulls the door sharply and heads for Gillian's office as Torres turns around in her chair to speak with the police officer. Cal bursts into Gillian's office, already speaking before he's barely through the doorway, "What is it that you have against Wallowski? Huh? What did she ever do to you?"

Gillian is in the process of sitting at her desk. She looks up at him as she does so and then pulls her chair under the desk by hands gripping its edge. "You called her," she states or accuses.

"I did. Cos this has become an active murder investigation as of this morning," Cal tells her. "And seeing as we're already looking into it I thought it would be prudent to share information." He steps closer to where she is pretending to be busy shuffling items around her desk. "That is the arrangement after all."

"Really?" Gillian's eyes shoot up quickly to meet his. "_That's_ the arrangement." Her tone is so dangerous right now.

"What did you think it was?" Cal asks.

Gillian stares up at him for a long time, her face defiant. "Wallowski sure thinks there's more to it. I can see it all over her body language whenever she's near you."

"And that has been all her doing," Cal tells her, taking a few more steps forward so he's standing in front of her desk now. "Nothing has ever happened. You know that right?"

Gillian looks surprised for a second.

"You _know_ that right?" Cal repeats sincerely, his hazel eyes boring into hers, his expression clouded.

"I did know," Gillian admits softly. "I do know."

"Then why so surprised?"

"I'm surprised you're telling me this. Or even talking to me about this subject when you've basically refused every other time."

"Well that's not true."

"You were happy to feed any rumour about her that you could muster," Gillian points out.

Cal turns his hips towards the door slightly and then swings back. "All right, that might be fair."

Gillian is surprised again.

"But from my lips to your ears luv. Nothing has ever happened with Wallowksi and nothing ever will. It's you that I want."

Gillian watches him for a moment stunned into stillness.

"Just saying," Cal gives a purposeful shrug and turns for her office door.

_Cube. Day. Continued._

Heather sits in a chair on one side of the desk. Cal sits on the other, next to Gillian once again. On the outside, Loker is monitoring the feed. "Look at her body language."

"I'm looking at it," Ria notes, eyes glued to the computer screen. "Doesn't mean anything's changed."

"You think she's just good at covering it up?"

"Possibly. She's still hiding something."

"Well that much _is_ obvious," Loker notes indignantly. A moment of silence passes between them. "They seem to be better though," he notes.

"You mean they're not yelling at each other."

"Well there is that," he taps a key on the panel in front of him and makes a note.

"It's sad but at least they're communicating now."

Loker turns to her and raises an eyebrow. Ria gives a shrug in response. "I've been reading some of those psychology books floating around."

"Good on you."

Ria looks pleased.

_Cube. Exterior. Continued._

Cal opens the door and powers down the stairs. Heather follows him and then Gillian. She moves away and Heather follows after her. They walk out into the corridor. Gillian thanks her for coming in to talk to them. Heather gives her a deliberate shrug, "Sure." She turns to walk away again.

"Wait," Cal stops her gently. "There's no need to do that." Heather looks back at him completely stunned. She's actually gone rigid where she stands. Cal gets closer to her and lowers his tone. "Darling. I don't know if you have something planned but I can see it's on your mind. Just know, that there are people out there that care about you and will miss you if you're gone. The hell you're in now is nothing compared to what you'll feel if you ever did something stupid. And I mean that it is stupid. Put yourself in the shoes of your family or friends. How devastated would you be if they suddenly ended it all?"

Heather's eyes have slowly filled up with tears.

Cal places his hand on her shoulder and gives it a little rub. "You're not alone. People care. Sometimes we're not very good at reaching out to ask for help but here," he pulls a card from his pocket. "Sometimes you need to swallow your own pride and admit your own faults and that maybe, right now, you just need someone to talk to." He pushes the card on her and she takes it. "You call that number when you're ready. I guarantee there'll be someone on the other end willing to help you in any way they can."

Heather stares down at the card.

"All right darling?" Cal asks her gently. She nods sadly, the tears dropping onto her hands. "Yeah you are," Cal pulls her into a timid hug. "You're all right." He lets her go. "I'll be making sure you ring that number all right?"

Heather nods again, gives a delicate sniff. "Thanks," she gestures with the card. Cal nods and she turns to walk away. He watches her leave and once the door swings shut behind her he also changes the direction of his body. He just about walks into Gillian. She's watching him very intently.

"Was that my business card?"

"Yeah," Cal admits.

Gillian leans in and plants a kiss so carefully at the edge of his mouth he goes still with the shock of it. "_That_ is one of the things I love about you Cal."


	6. Chapter 6

**Act Five**

"So it was Boyd? Boyd padlocked him in there?" Cameron is stunned and upset and he paces his office and then takes a seat heavily. "On purpose?"

"Yes," Gillian tells him gently, leaning against the edge of his desk. "He told us he was angry about how he was treated in the kitchen and wanted to get back at you so you understood how fragile everything was and how you could lose it all so easily. He knew the small instances of sabotage, while damaging, were slipping under your radar. So he did something that would get everyone's attention."

"And took someone's life?" Cameron looks disgusted.

"He couldn't think of anything bigger than that. He was trying to destroy you."

"But," Cameron looks flustered. "I never even suspected. I never yelled at him. I only ever expected him to do his job."

"Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do," Gillian tells him softly. "Sometimes people come into our lives already damaged. And we never know about that damage until they tell us or they show us."

"Spoken like a true psychologist," Cameron looks up at her deprecatingly.

Gillian's expression turns wry. "You should know. You took all the same classes I did."

Cameron gets to his feet. "So what's with you and Doctor Lightman? Are you two seeing each other?"

Gillian gives a slight impatient sigh. "I'm not really sure what's going on with me and him at the moment."

"How about having dinner with me? We could catch up."

Gillian looks wan. "If that was a friendly invitation between two friends..." But she can see from his face that it is not. "How about we just leave it how it is? If we cross paths again then maybe it's meant to be."

Cameron gives a shrug and looks out to his kitchen through the window of his office door. The dishwasher is silent in its corner. The extractor fans are on low. The space is empty and waiting for someone to make the next move. "So what happens next?"

"Well, with a clear confession the DA is willing to press charges."

"I meant with me. This place. How is this going to affect me?"

Gillian watches him for a moment. There's a flicker on her face: who is this stranger.

"My reputation is everything Gill. If I don't have a name I don't have a clientele," Cameron implores like she has any control over it.

"I don't know," Gillian tells him. "I don't have the answers to that."

_Lightman residence. Evening. Continued._

There's a knock at the back door and Cal swallows down the last of his beer, resting the empty bottle back on the bench before scuffing over to answer in his socks and jeans that are slightly too long for him now that he doesn't have shoes on. He pulls the door open to reveal Gillian. "Hey," he greets her almost resignedly.

"Hey," she responds equally as softly.

Cal immediately steps aside to let her in. "Beer?"

"Sure," Gillian responds as she walks across his kitchen. Cal goes to the fridge and pulls two. He pops the caps while he watches her take a seat at the breakfast bar. "I know you're mad at me right now but can we talk?"

"I'm not mad at you Gill."

"You seem hurt."

"I guess I am hurt," Cal answers truthfully.

Gillian seems a little surprised. "I've been seeing a shrink."

"I looked up the name on the door when I followed you."

"Cameron and I used to date in college. We took all the same classes. He was doing basically the same degree."

"I checked the security footage to see what Russo wanted."

"He asked me out and I turned him down."

"So I saw."

"Cameron asked me out."

"And?" Cal looks slightly hopeful.

"I turned him down," Gillian tells him with a firm nod of her head.

Cal swigs his beer, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Because I want to make you and me work in whatever way I can. And maybe I've been distant recently and maybe that has had everything to do with you but... I want to make it work Cal because whatever I feel for you, it's real. It's the realist thing I've ever felt and I don't want to let the opportunity pass us by. I haven't changed my mind."

Cal's face sobers into stunned. "I might have led Wallowski on."

Gillian gives a slight nod.

"But _nothing_ has ever happened with her.

"I know," Gillian tells him sincerely.

Cal steps closer to her. "So? So what now? Cos if I recall correctly we were at this same exact place several weeks ago and got stuck."

Gillian swallows. "Our past is complicated Cal."

"Right," he agrees.

"But that doesn't mean our future has to be."

He raises his eyebrows slightly and takes another step towards her.

"I have to be different too."

He takes another step. "And seeing a shrink helps with that." It's not a question. It's a statement.

"Yes," Gillian agrees.

"I was stupid to think that Leonard Heinzman wouldn't leave other scars."

Gillian sighs. "Yeah. Me too."

Cal nods. "So... that's good that you're getting help if you need it. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I could have and should have been more supportive."

"I just feel like we weren't connecting in the right way before."

"Me either," Cal looks relieved. "It felt a little forced." His hand comes up to her cheek and he runs the back of his fingers across it.

"It just wasn't lined up properly," Gillian suggests.

Cal nods emphatically. "I pressured you even though I said I wasn't going to."

"Yes," Gillian admits.

"But I do get it about the sex thing. It's a big step and if you don't feel right about it then there is no way I would want that to get in the way of us. The strongest relationships are built on friendship are they not?"

"We're already good friends," Gillian points out.

"That we are."

"But that doesn't mean it's not going to be difficult to redefine the boundaries."

"Right," Cal agrees letting his hand drop to the bench again.

"I want to redefine them."

"Me too," he mumbles.

"So much."

He gives a slight smile. And Gillian returns it tentatively and the whole atmosphere shifts between them and around the room. "That will take time though, right?"

Gillian nods.

"And in the meantime?"

Gillian reaches for his hand and brings it up so she can watch her fingers caress across his. Then she shifts his hand to cup her ear as her eyes rise to meet his intensely. His fingers don't need encouragement to thread through her hair. She stands so they are a similar height and presses her lips firmly against his. Cal's other arm embraces her back automatically. She looks him dead in the eye. "In the meantime, Cal, I want you to know, that I love you. And I'm not afraid to tell you that anymore."

_AN: seeing as I haven't actually named ONE of the fics in this series, I thought I would stick to tradition... and let someone else name the last one too. And seeing as I have made many friends through this site/the fandom, I thought it might be fitting to open it up to you all and have you suggest some titles. If you want to, that is..._

_So, yes it's the last one, but I don't want to give away any of what will happen. So you'll have to suggest away blindly and we'll see what you come up with and if one of them fits... Otherwise randomness will abound!_

_Read you around?_

_P.S The story's theme redemption..._


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